I'm BAAAAA-AACK and about to regale you with more stories from the WC. You're welcome.

So I pop into the bathroom at work and the first stall I try - the toilet is filled with pee and toilet paper. Which…gross. Especially at work. So I move on to the next one since It’s not my job to flush after you. But I’m sitting there and I get to thinking – how, exactly, does that even HAPPEN? I mean, were you peeing and then suddenly you were all “I’m supposed to be in a meeting!” and you just wipe and run? Did you simply forget that you had just peed, yet remembered to wipe? I just don’t understand this – it blew my mind.

THEN…

I’m still sitting there and someone else walks in and goes directly to the pee toilet. I assumed this person would turn and walk away, like I had, and choose another stall – there were three more open after all. But no. She enters. So ok – and this point I’m thinking she’s clearly a better person than I am (or just willing to put up with more gross co-workers). I’m assuming, however, that she will flush first, since….gross. I mean just…imagine. But…once again….nooo. She does her business, flushes…and goes to wash her hands.

So at this point – I’m thinking maybe it was already her pee, like maybe she came in the first time, does her thing, remembers this random meeting, or call, or whatever….wipes and runs planning, the entire time, to come back later and finish and flush.

Or maybe …. I’ve spent too much time contemplating this whole situation and should seek professional help. And apparently so should Ms. Multi-pee. You know, if you're asking me.

This is probably why gym's shouldn't have TV's

The other day I managed to find a spare hour to hit the gym. While this is completely amazing just by its self, that’s not the story. The story is that I happened to see Donald Trump on one of the TV’s, kickin' it in his boardroom all The Apprentice style. He was with a young man (possibly his son. Does he have a son?) They were the only two people in the room, and were getting up from the table. Cut to a close up on T-Rump’s face. Cut back again to show T- Rump escorting the young man out of the boardroom.

Since I have no idea what was being said, it made me think: Does Donald Trump fire his family?

His kids for instance. Like when they were younger and they got in trouble for breaking curfew or whatever, instead of getting grounded, did T-Rump simply sit them down in a boardroom somewhere and just…fire…them?

Or his wives. Does he actually tell them he wants a divorce or does he also march them into the room, the table still wet from the tears of a firing earlier that day, and say “I’ve been really observing your performance these last few years and I don’t like what I see” and then he goes on to list whatever it is he’s sick of, then maybe he takes her hands and says “Dear, You’re Fired!”

Then she’s confused so she starts crying and T-Rump is all “Hey! There’s no crying in the boardroom, you take this outside missy” So she leaves and maybe gives a little confession in the elevator for T-Rump to watch later, maybe on You Tube, and then he calls his secretary to call maintenance to come wipe up this table for God’s sake, someone could slip and that’s just a lawsuit waiting to happen.

I have a secret...you see there's this club, and I'm not in it

I have a secret. It’s something I didn’t even realize myself until recently. In fact, I couldn’t even really put a finger on it until I was ready to admit it to myself first. It’s not a big secret and I know I’m not alone, well,l I know at least one other person that had this secret too. You’d probably never even guess if I told you to – even if I said I would wait, and I would…wait that is.

See, there’s this sort of… “club” and I’m not in it. Not really. Sure, I get invited to hang out, but I’ll never have the membership card to prove anything. Nobody will ever sit me down and show me the secret handshake, or teach me the special knock. I realize there’s really nothing I can do about this, the club is closed to me and that’s understandable, but it doesn’t stop me from being jealous. Just a tiny bit.

I’m not jealous all the time, just some of the time. And it’s not really jealously, but a sort of twinge in my heart that’s there to remind me, to keep me in check. The twinge says: “You may have been invited to the party but you don’t get to stay for the show”. It reminds me of all the things I’m not really a part of. It reminds me of all the things, that no matter how hard I try, will never be reciprocated back to me. They just can’t, and that’s ok, that’s the way it should be because some of those things aren’t mine to have. Not yet.

It’s that love between a parent and child, father and daughter. It’s the thing that’s not mine to either have, or understand. Yet, it makes you want to be part of its warm embrace, keeping you safe. That unconditional love that can only occur in those very special relationships, the ones that go much deeper than us non-parents can sometimes understand.

I had a friend who already had two children when she met her boyfriend. After awhile, he started talking about wanting children of his own, much to my friend’s surprise. She didn’t get it...but I did. I never told her though. I never told her how it’s all about being in the club, about not only having that special parent-child bond, but that parent-parent bond as well. How you want to be able to look at a child doing something amazing and then reach over and take the hand of the person who created that amazing thing with you.


There’s someone else I can’t tell this too. I think he senses it, but he’s getting it wrong. He’s misinterpreting the jealously as a competition for his love. That’s not the case. There is no competition, and the love isn’t created equal, nor should it be. He doesn’t understand the way my friend didn’t understand. He’s already in the club. I’m still standing outside the gates, watching it all happen from between the iron bars.